


What the Mirror Says

by Hospitaliers



Category: BioShock
Genre: Gen, Headcanon jumble, Sad at the top happy at the bottom, You have to squint for some of them, self-image issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 10:31:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3407357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hospitaliers/pseuds/Hospitaliers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Wynand looks at himself if the mirror. He doesn't quite like what he sees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What the Mirror Says

It's 8AM and Jack stands in front of the mirror, staring at himself.

He's been doing this for twenty minutes already, and every second that goes by, he finds yet another thing he dislikes in the image he sees.

There's no way to put it lightly: he's fat. He's a tall guy, alright, but he's also wide, and that takes some of the effect of his height. His limbs are short in comparison to the rest of his body and, though quite muscular, there's a layer of fat over his upper arms and thighs, covered by soft, hairless skin. He looks like a gigantic baby.

"A chubby boy is a healthy boy." his... his mother... he remembers... she used to say... yes, he remembers. He does. It still doesn't quite wipe away the discomfort he feels when he can't fit in any pair of pants he likes. When he has to uncomfortably shuffle away from dressing rooms because he can't make button and buttonhole meet on the shirts he tries on. He especially cannot stand the way the storeclerks look at him with humour and badly-suppressed laughter when he goes to town every other week and buys licorice and taffy for a regiment. What is he going to say? "It's for my twenty one adoptive daughters." Even trying to open his mouth would look like a badly made-up excuse, so he just resigns himself to pay, crook the corner of his mouth upwards in a poor imitation of a smile, and leave with the candy. He doesn't quite register when, but one of his hands falls on the swell of his stomach. It palms and pinches, lifting his white undershirt and revealing a variety of scars, quite a few of them stretch marks that dip under the waistband of his too-tight boxers. It doesn't hurt as much as the staring does.

He tears his eyes away from his midsection, dejectedly realizing he's been staring at himself the way they do, like he's some sort of walking freakshow. He lifts his gaze, and realizes a man is looking at him. His face is caricaturesque. Grotesque, even. Tired eyes, sunken in their sockets and surrounded by dark rings. A wide nose and an oddly-shaped mouth with awkwardly pouting lips. The man's face is round, with a weak chin and a barely-defined jawline and neck. His shoulders are wide, but they slump low, making him look exhausted. Unconsciously, he straightens his posture just a tad. He looks like nothing but a big, buff teenager. Jack thinks about the odd satisfaction he'd get from punching the mirror man's face. Never in his life has he wanted to exert so much violence upon someone, not even when he had to face... the man behind it all. It's an alien, uncharacteristic feeling for him, but he can't help the way his fists clench in preparation for a blow that never comes.

He has to give himself some credit, though. His babyface makes him look young even in his thirties, and when he flexes his arms and legs, there's the very distinctive bump of muscle formed beneath the skin and fat. His pectorals are quite well-defined, as well, and that's something he's grateful for. His health condition is also top notch, and he has the strength and energy to work around the farm everyday and still be able to give piggyback rides to one of his daughters. Or, three. He believes he could even carry a fourth one, but wide as he is, the girls grow up quickly, and soon they'll outgrow their desire to be carried everywhere by their parents.

But then, he takes a second look and sees, where everything else abounds, something that's missing. He stares down, at his calves, covered with thin, silky hair up to his knees. And not any further up. Not on his chest, nor his back. There's barely any fluff on his forearms and two tiny patches of hair beneath each arm, and that's all. He can't even say he can grow a beard, or even the grittiest of mustaches. His facial hair consists of a few stray hairs under his sideburns, which he makes a point to shave off everytime they grow because they look simply horrible, due to their scarcity. His overall lack of body hair makes him feel like he's trapped in a permanent state of prepubescence. Absently, he wonders if hormonal imbalance is a side-effect of the accelerated growth he was made to experience during his... younger days. The scars he brought from Rapture, albeit now fading and being replaced with pale, new tissue, grant him some of the tough look his hairless body takes from him. It's not in the way he'd want to, though. Even with just his wrist tattoos, his strong brow and wide frame, people look at him like he's some sort of thug. He can't even begin to imagine the kind of things they'd say if they saw what he's seeing right now.

All in all, he feels unattractive. But who is he going to complain to? Body image issues are a woman's thing, and even if they weren't, why is he even complaining? He doesn't have anybody he should impress. Tenenbaum hardly cares, and the girls are more than happy to have a big dad they can all hug. But all the stares, all the giggles, the little boys at the girls' school poking fun at him and the hurtful comments that follow from their mothers, the inane excuses for when he has to leave his torn clothes at the tailor, even if it had nothing to do with his body and everything to do with barbed wire and splintered wood...

Before he can further ponder his current condition, he hears the door to the room creak open, and then a tiny, overdramatic gasp. He turns his head and sees little Maud, peeking through the door and covering her eyes in embarrassment at the sight of her dad in his underwear. "Papa!" She giggles, still shielding her eyes with her tiny hand. "Stop looking so much at the mirror! We already know you're very handsome!" Try as he might, he can't stop the wide smile that spreads across his round face, drawing his lips thin and puffing his pudgy cheeks. Suddenly, he feels like the most handsome man in the world, to hell with everyone else. He already has all the women he could've ever wanted in his life, and none of them care about how he looks, only if he has time to play and enough hugs for all.

"Mama Tenenbaum says you should go downstairs. We aren't going to start eating breakfast without you!" Maud chimes again, still peeking from behind the door. Jack sighs deeply through his nose, happiness welling inside of his chest and making his heart flutter. Who cares if he's not Apollo? Not his family, that's for sure. "Tell her I'm getting dressed, I'll be there in a moment." Maud nods vigorously and closes the door. He can hear her mary janes clattering against the floorboards as she rushes downstairs.

He spares one last glance at the mirror and smiles, shaking his head. The mirror is promptly covered by his undershirt, which he takes off and haphazardly throws against it. He isn't beautiful, but his body is still his temple. His arms were made for working and hugging. His legs, for rushing towards his injured children and taking them to Brigid for her to put colorful bandaids on their scrapped knees. His back and shoulders are the best saddle his twenty one little daughters could've ever asked for. His lips were made for kissing heads and cheeks goodnight and making up bedtime stories on the spot. His nose, for smelling freshly-baked pies and flowers picked on the side of the road. And his eyes, to see the twenty one most beautiful girls and the one most beautiful woman in the world grow and be happy. Who cares about what the mirror says?

Not him, that's for sure.

**Author's Note:**

> [Please tell me I'm not the only one who loves the way canon!Jack looks in his passport picture.](http://vignette2.wikia.nocookie.net/bioshock/images/8/87/Jack_Ryan_Portrait.png/revision/latest?cb=20100318061325)
> 
> I really love my headcanon of pudgy!Jack. There's something about it that's just so pretty. I'm really sorry if you don't share it, but I like it, and I'd like to see more of it (preferently in a non-fetish-y way). I also wanted to write something regarding guys that don't like what the mirror says, because I've seen quite a bit of negativity regarding them, and more than a handful of my friends happen to be chubby guys.
> 
> Anyway, that was mister Jack Wynand being a one man army of fluff and optimism.
> 
> (Also, this is my first work for the Bioshock fanbase, and english isn't my first language. Any criticism or corrections are welcome and encouraged.)


End file.
